


Take it Off (or Five Wardrobe Related Arguements Will Couldn't Win)

by windandthestars



Category: The Newsroom (US TV)
Genre: F/M, Five Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-04
Updated: 2013-10-04
Packaged: 2017-12-28 10:50:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/991165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/windandthestars/pseuds/windandthestars
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He watches her jaw shift.  He’s irritated her, but he’s not wrong about the story, and she knows that.  She needs to hear what he has to say so she’s not in for any surprises, but she’s not about to take the shoes off either.</p><p>“I’ll stand here.”  She says, shifting her weight and he sighs, going back to his rant.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Take it Off (or Five Wardrobe Related Arguements Will Couldn't Win)

**Author's Note:**

> Teen for language and adult themes.
> 
> Spoilers for 1.09-1.10 The Blackout and 2.09 Election Night Part II

She's curled up on the couch beside him, shins pressed against the armrest to wedge herself into the space left uncluttered by books and yellow pads of paper. She's wearing his shirt, not one of the shirts from his closet, not one of his t-shirts, not even one of the button downs he wears around the office. She’s wearing the shirt he had worn on the air earlier that night. Even without the studio lighting he's so used to, the fabric is shockingly white, bright white against the creamy expanse of her bare skin.

One of the cuffs sits draped over her hand, the tips of her fingers poking out of the end to rest beside her thigh. The other slips up her arm to her elbow as she reaches toward him and he sets his book down with a quiet sigh to roll it up for her. She hadn't asked him to, in fact she seems somewhat perturbed by the delay, but she allows him to finish before she curls her fingers toward his jaw.

"Good show," he turns to murmur against her palm and she laughs a little before pushing his book aside to lay her head in his lap.

 

*

 

It's the click of her steps against the wood floor that stops him mid rant. He's been watching her pace the length of his kitchen while he talked, and the noise, the dissonance between what he sees and what he hears is beginning to get to him. The top half of her, the part of her he can see over the counter, is dressed in plaid pajamas like something straight out of his childhood, long-sleeved and boxy in a way that suggests he doesn't keep his apartment warm enough for her liking. She's wearing those ridiculous pajamas and a pair of stilettos.

"It's the shoes," He waves at her when she looks confused and she frowns at him again.

"I'm breaking them in."

He's not entirely sure that's something she needs to do now, let alone ever. He's pretty sure they're the same stilettos she always buys, but then again he hasn’t been paying that much attention to her shoes this morning. He’s still worked up about a story they’re running next week and he’s more concerned with making sure she knows it than he is with whatever she has on her feet. “Go put some slippers on.”

He watches her jaw shift. He’s irritated her, but he’s not wrong about the story, and she knows that. She needs to hear what he has to say so she’s not in for any surprises, but she’s not about to take the shoes off either.

“I’ll stand here.” She says, shifting her weight and he sighs, going back to his rant.

 

*

 

It doesn't take long for him to follow the trail of clothing she’s left. He knows exactly who left it and where it leads but he tries to linger a bit, draw out the suspense.

A sky blue blouse, a black skirt, those damn heels he’d bought her last year for her birthday. One of his socks hangs from the handle of his bedroom door and he laughs before pushing it open.

MacKenzie sits perched on the end of his bed, fingers curled around the edge, lip drawn in over her bottom teeth, head canted to one side wearing underwear so small Will's not entirely certain he can qualify them as lace.

"Happy birthday, Billy." She coos and he's sure for a moment that he's died and gone to heaven.

"Jesus, Mac I'd like to live to see fifty."

 

*

 

"Zip me up."

She turns as he slides the door shut and he motions her over. He's here a little late because he wanted to make sure everything was alright at the office before he left. He didn't want anything blowing up and ruining this for her. He’s a little late and a little concerned that it worried her, but if she has any awareness of time she's not letting on so he lets it pass and decides it's probably better not to mention work right now anyway.

He reaches over and tugs on the zipper, pulling it down over the curve of her back and slipping the dress off her shoulders. He’s never understood why she thinks people take her more seriously when she dolls herself up. Mac is a beautiful woman. He would never miss and opportunity to see her gorgeous legs or hear the giggle that accompanies bright red lipstick and an expensive pair of new shoes, but the dress is going to make her uncomfortable. She's going to be focused on not fidgeting and he doesn't want her any more distracted than she's already going to be.

He's guiding her arm back through the sleeve of the blouse she had carelessly thrown on the stool at the vanity before her brain catches up with what's happening and she starts to protest.

“Will.” She tries to turn around to face him, but he’s pressed too tightly against her back as he does up the buttons to give her much leverage.

“You’re going to be fine.”

“I can’t wear this. I can’t wear this I-“ She tugs at the hem of the blouse, wiping her palms against the silky fabric.

“You’re a news producer and a damn good one. You don’t have to go out there looking like you’re about to walk the red carpet. Smile, answer their questions, don’t make jokes, and you’ll be fine.”

“You go on the air at eight.”

“Jim will be there. Everything’s going to be alright. Put your skirt back on and take a deep breath.”

“Sloan always wears a dress.”

“Sloan is an economist and she isn’t you. Put the skirt on and take a deep breath. I haven’t renewed my CPR certification since the 90s I have no idea what to do if you pass out.”

“I’m not going to pass out, but I really think I should wear the dress.”

“Good and no you shouldn’t. No wearing dresses until you remember to stop signing up for panels on economics.”

“But I like the dress.”

“Put the skirt on, Mac.”

“Fine, but you better not mess up tonight.”

“We got Obama- Osama.”

“That was last year.”

“I know. Put the damn skirt on before I have to do it for you. You have to be out there in five minutes.”

 

*

 

“Take it all off.”

“No, Billy, I’m serious.”

“So am I. Take it off.”

“I have to wear something.”

“To the wedding. On Saturday. It’s Wednesday.”

“It’s our wedding.”

“You have a dress.”

“I can’t show up to the church in my pajamas.”

“I have it on good authority that since it’s your wedding you can.”

“Sloan?”

“Is a reliable source.”

“Is not a reliable source and you know it. How does this look?”

“It looks beautiful, absolutely stunning, now take it off.”

“Billy.”

“Take it off and get over here before I have to get up and rip it off you.” 

There’s a giggle, the first hint of a blush creeping over her reflection in the mirror. “If I wear this do you think-“

“Take it off MacKenzie. I want you naked and in my bed now.”

There’s a shriek and another giggle before they’re both tumbling backward onto the bed. “We’re getting married on Saturday.”

“Fuck Saturday.”

“We will,” Mac smirks, squirming out of his grasp and rolling over, “but first I need to know how fuckable I look in this dress. It’s the last thing you’re going to see me wearing before I become Mrs. McAvoy.”

“I have it on good authority you look very fuckable in that dress Ms. McHale.”

“Sloan?”

“Is not a reliable source.”

“Is that a yes?”

“Take the dress off and I’ll prove it to you.”

“Maybe I should-“

“MacKenzie you’re killing me.”

“I know,” there’s another smirk, “but it’ll be worth it, I promise.”


End file.
